


Missing Post, Parcels, and Patience

by WrittenByBlueJay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Curse Breaking, Owls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 06:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenByBlueJay/pseuds/WrittenByBlueJay
Summary: Tom is a friendly wizard who has been asked to deal with a mischievous mail box. He will have to think outside the box while working as a curse breaker.





	Missing Post, Parcels, and Patience

Tom Wimble appeared a few feet down a road past an inn. He looked around and spotted a sign marking Polsted Lane. With one hand he pulled out his pocket watch and with the other he collected his hat from where it laid besides the road. His pocket watch assured him that he was ‘traveling’ and not ‘late’. For the first time this week, he would be on time for an appointment. This was fitting as it was Friday and this was his last appointment.

                Tom became increasingly aware of the slight hill that led away from the inn to which he had just apparated. He was thankful for the crisp breeze that had knocked off his hat upon his arrival as it now kept him cool despite his exertion. Tom knew that the Mullpeppers were quite old, and he wondered how they handled the long walk into town. He imagined that they were connected to the Floo network, but Mrs. Mullpepper hadn’t mentioned that in her letter. He rounded the last bend in the narrow country road leading to the Mullpepper’s residence.

                Tom took in the humble house as he walked towards it. It had a nice chimney set deep within the bricks and a couple of the windows on the second floor were open. An older woman was waddling down the drive towards him. He greeted Mrs. Mullpepper with a smile and a wave as he was still a bit too far away to call to her comfortably.

She was working her hands through a towel that she was carrying trying to remove the dirt stuck to her fingernails. He assumed she was working in the garden. Mr. Mullpepper ran an apothecary in London and it was well known that some of the herbs and fungi that were available for sale were grown by the old couple themselves. She stuck out a firm handshake to Tom when he was close enough and he could see a little bit of sweat on her brow.

“Tom, I’m not sure there is even a curse.” She dove headfirst into what was bothering her. “One day it works fine and the next I lose everything that I put into it. Nicholas seems to think I’ve just been misplacing things, but I know better.”

“No worries Ma’am. Sometimes finding what is wrong is the hardest part. You mentioned it’s a post box?”

Mrs. Mullpepper directed Tom to a large wooden structure that sat beside the road leading to her house. It looked a bit like a miniature house complete with false windows and a squat chimney perched to one side. The façade was ruined by a large hole that was cut into the center. Mrs. Mullpepper demonstrated to him that the back of the structure opened. Within was a handful of perches for owls to sit along with a couple of cubby holes were packages or letters could be placed, awaiting pickup. The smell reminded him of the owlery at Hogwarts.

“I keep putting things in it and it goes missing the next day. I used to believe that the packages were just getting lost by the owls, but they were very angry when I started to keep better track of who was picking up what. They are such sensitive creatures.”

Tom took his time asking Mrs. Mullpepper all the questions he could think of about the owl box. It had been a wedding gift from Mr. Mullpepper’s grandfather when they were first married. They had repainted it about ten years ago and the post that it stood on had to be replaced after a storm knocked it over. Mr. Mullpepper didn’t like it when owls roosted inside their home so it was vital that they had the structure functional before Christmas. Mrs. Mullpepper complained that the holiday season was always so busy for them and that they would be overwhelmed without the help of the box. She didn’t think there were any enchantments on it, but Mrs. Mullpepper wasn’t quite certain.

“I wouldn’t be surprised that there was something, maybe to keep it clean or warm for the owls during the winter, but we have had it for so long I honestly don’t remember.”

Tom started to investigate the box, but was distracted by Mrs. Mullpepper who was silently hovering over his shoulder. He dropped one subtle and one not very subtle hint that he needed some time alone with the box, which was enough to get her to waddle back up the hill towards her house. He wasn’t certain if he had crossed the line into being rude, but he knew that the best apology would be to finish his work quickly.

He whisked out his wand and summoned a gentle gust of air that he used to clean the floor of the box. A small mound of owl droppings, pellets and feathers were blown free. Tom squatted down and used a stick to sift through the mess. A couple of the pellets had crumbled open during their fall, revealing mice skeletons and fiber, but not paper or parcels. More interesting was the fact that he did find scraps of paper, but the paper was fresh and didn’t appear to have come from an owl’s stomach. Instead it looked like it had been shredded and then scattered within the box. Tom was satisfied that the owls weren’t the culprits.

He ranked the possibility that there was an actual curse quite high, which was great news for Tom. He was a curse breaker.

He whisked out his wand again and started to probe the corners. When nothing jumped out at him, he stuck his head into the box for closer inspection. The wood felt warm under his hands despite the chill in the air. He could feel the whispers of magic dancing within the wood. He stood still and closed his eyes. Feeling out the subtle differences in the knots of the wood, looking for hints as to its purpose. He failed completely and had nothing new to go on.

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Mullpepper came down the drive to check on Tom under the guise of offering him tea. He was already seated on a nearby rock so he took the opportunity to put out his cigarette and give her a short report of what he had learned.

“It is certainly enchanted, but with what I still can’t really say. Whatever it is, is quite stubborn. I tried the Scouring and Lustration Charms, both styles of the Expugish Hexes, as well as the whole family of Inquiring Charms. Nothing made any changes in it as far as I can tell. It’s stuck pretty good. No, I’m not out of ideas yet, but it just means I have to get creative.”

Tom’s desire to take a break and enjoy the tea started to wane quickly as Mrs. Mullpepper talked about her husband’s habit of staying so late at work. His thoughts drifted away from her complaints about how difficult it was to keep _Azura Scintillations_ contained in just one planter. The trick to figuring out a curse was in figuring out what triggered the curse to activate. Maybe he should try hooting at it; it was an owl house after all.

Mrs. Mullpepper eased herself off of the stump she was sitting on and collected their cups.

“I’ll leave you to it Tom, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be out back. Thanks for listening.” She patted him on his shoulder and went back up the hill. He wasn’t sure if the last bit had been sarcastic.

Tom’s mind turned back to the box. He had encountered curses that were difficult to identify in the past, but usually he had more to go on. There might have been a hint about who placed it or why. A description about what the curse did. Something.

Tom decided that he wasn’t getting anywhere without taking some chances. He brought his wand about and cast a simple hex to make the area around the box a little darker. Immediately the light dimmed around the box. The handful of insects that were chirping from the brush nearby fell quite. So did Tom. He waited for a moment, but when nothing happened he deepened the darkness. After a few moments of silence he sighed and dispelled his hex.

He tried to make the box feel warm, cold, windy and bashful. He had a bit of trouble with the last one as emotional manipulation by way of charms were never his strong suit, but Tom was really good at working with wood which allowed him a little more creativity than the average wizard. He had grown up in the forest and had always enjoyed working with wood. It was more honest than another Wizard. The only tricky part was the knots, but the wood wasn’t trying to hide those. Not really.

Tom tickled the underside of the box. He stroked the top and the sides. He itched the doors and brushed a couple of scraps of dust from the hole. It occurred to him that he might have made it scared when he was trying to keep the it warm. He had used a small fire which, in retrospect, might have been a tad insensitive to a wooden object. He redid his initial experiment, but this time used a strangely light blanket that he borrowed from Mrs. Mullpepper. He tucked it around the body of the owl house and stuck the blanket inside the doors. Tom decided to give the box plenty of time to get warm. He leaned against a nearby tree and produced a steel flask from a breast pocket. It was still a couple of hours before sunset, but he figured that it was late enough in the day that he wouldn’t feel guilty over having a little.

He was in the middle of a moderate draft of whisky when he heard something coming from the box. He could hear clearly the sound of movement coming from the box. Had an owl flown in while he was taking a break? Unlikely. It was still pretty early in the evening and he would have heard it flying.

                Tom probed one of the doors with his wand. The door creaked open and that side of the blanket flopped out. It looked like it had been chewed. Large chunks of the cloth were shredded and a portion of it was missing entirely. The box stood empty and quite still. Tom pulled the other door open which revealed an equally empty second half and an equally destroyed piece of blanket.

                He spent the next ten minutes or so trying to reproduce the situation that had resulted in the carnivorous box becoming active. He first put the blanket back inside, but that didn’t result in anything. He then tried the blanket plus him sitting by the tree. Nothing.

Blanket, tree, and flask.

Nothing.

Blanket, tree, flask, and Tom thinking about his daughter. Still nothing.

Blanket, tree, flask, daughter and drinking.

Nothing.

Drinking.

Surprisingly nothing.

The blanket was caught by a gust of air and Tom was distracted for a moment while fishing it out from the brush. He leaned against the box while he took a final pull from his flask before returning it to his pocket.

Tom tried his coat as a new blanket. Maybe the box was disappointed that it was being expected to eat something it had already eaten. There was no response. He sighed heavily and looked at his pocket watch as he put his coat back on. His portrait was on ‘Late’ and his daughter’s was on ‘anxious’. His son’s portrait was frowning and was halfway between ‘hungry’ and ‘bored,’ which was a position that Tom had added after Richard was added to his family. He trusted that Madison would take care of Richard’s dinner. She was old enough to handle that kind of thing, but Tom admitted that he had relied on her for that sort of help a lot recently. He tossed the blanket back on the box and pondered his options.

He could call it a day. He had been here for more than five hours already and he had made some progress. He would have to explain the delay and the state of the blanket to Mrs. Mullpepper, but he was sure that she would understand that these things took a fair amount of time. The shadows were getting a little longer and the light was dim enough to warrant a soft glow coming from the Mullpepper’s house. Tom grabbed the blanket and started to head up the hill, but stopped as he was yanked back towards the owl box.

The blanket was clamped firmly between the two doors and there was a soft munching noise coming from within. Tom ignited the tip of his wand and shown the light on the box, which immediately released the blanket and remained perfectly still. Tom threw a rock at the box out of curiosity and frustration. It bounced harmlessly off the roof and rolled on the gravel down the hill.

Tom repeatedly tossed the blanket over and off the owl house in rapid succession. The seventh time he threw the blanket in place the box reared to life and attempted to take a bite. Toms snapped his arm back as fast as he could, but he still had to nurse his middle finger, which had been pinched between the two snapping doors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Mullpepper was elbow deep in a pair of planters when she heard a knock at her door. The planters, which were going to hold a couple of Milkweed plants that had outgrown their original planter, were left on the sill while she bustled across her house to let a rather tired looking Mr. Wimble in.

“Tom! I thought you went home a while ago. Any luck with… Is that my shawl?”

He was holding a handful of scraps of the blanket and an expression of catharsis.

“Oh is that what it’s called? I was thinking it was just a blanket. Yeah, the damn box got it. Tried to fight it off, but it was a goner.” Tom handed the strips of cloth back to an aghast Mrs. Mullpepper while he walked into her house. He called to her from the kitchen while pouring himself a large glass of water.

“That box is cursed alright. I think I figured it out though. Going to need a week to make sure it takes, but after that it should be safe to use to your hearts content.”

Mrs. Mullpepper had started a pair of needles in her living room to go about the lengthy process of recreating her favorite shawl. She was out of her magenta thread and so she had opted for a more mauve color scheme. Satisfied that the needles were following her directions, she joined Tom at the kitchen table.

“It’s done then? What was wrong with it? Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Oh yeah, quite safe to you and me, but it would do a number on any letter you would have put in it. At least on Sunday. See, it was only eating the post on Sunday. It was keeping track of the days based on when it got dark and all that.”

Tom paused and took a drink from the glass. He let out a satisfied sigh afterwards and leaned back in his chair.

“What if it had gotten dark because of a storm?”

“Let’s not get bogged down in petty details.” Tom waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Point is I fixed it, and we don’t have to worry about eclipses or nothing. I carved a small calendar on the inside of it, which is always set to a Monday. I tried it a couple of times and I think the box took the bait.”

Tom awaited his justly deserved praise.

“Do you think that will work?” Mrs. Mullpepper offered hesitantly.

“I just said I tested it. So it did work. The question is, will it keep working? That’s what I need you check for me. Put something in it every night for the next seven days just to check. After that it should be very safe to use. It’s made out of birch so it’s not like it is exceptionally clever. If it was pine we might be in trouble, but birch? No problem.”

The solution that Tom was offering still left Mrs. Mullpepper with plenty of doubts, but Tom was so confident that she couldn’t help but feel relieved. She patted his hand from across the table as they stood.

Tom didn’t bother to count the handful of galleons payment as he made his way down the driveway. He apparated home once he was a respectable distance from the Mullpepper’s house.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. I am always looking for tips on being a better writer.


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